Hot Sauce, Sun Butts and Fried Chicken
by inthelookingglass
Summary: The very cracky product of a conversation about Grantaire's perception of Enjolras and les amis food headcanons. Courfeyrac tries to down a bottle of hot sauce, Grantaire draws a portrait of Enjolras and Enjolras just really wants a KFC.


**So this is basically the crackiest thing ever written. Co-written with thecoloursoftheworld, this is a product of a... strange conversation about Grantaire's perception of Enjolras(he thinks the sun shines out of Enjolras' butt basically) and our les amis favourite food head canons... Don't take this seriously. Please. **

The glass bottle slams down on the table, Bahorel smiling up towards Courfeyrac as he lets his grip on the sauce loosen. It's peri peri sauce(extra hot), and if you know Courfeyrac, you'll know that this is possibly his favourite thing in the whole wide world. Any time he cooks, he drowns his chicken in it and leaves it to marinade until the sauce seeps into every little nook and cranny. His friends laugh, knowing that their friend's love for this food is a little overboard; they welcome it however, buying him gift cards for Nandos every birthday and Christmas knowing they won't go unused.

"If you love this shit so much, I have a challenge for you," Bahorel grins wildly. "Down it."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

Courfeyrac shrugs, clutching the bottle in his hand and ripping off the plastic covering. Surely it won't be that bad; he's went through so many bottles of this stuff that he's pretty sure he'll still love it cold and without the chicken. He lifts the bottle to his lips, almost choking at the strong chilli smell building in his nose. Before he has the chance to back out, Bahorel tips the bottle so he has no choice but to take a swig. With the threat of being force fed the bottle, he pulls away and drinks it himself.

He's gagging, but still chugging away at the thick orange sauce.

"DOWN IT! DOWN IT! DOWN IT!" Grantaire pumps his fist.

Joly, who's on the other side of the cafe, wrings his hands together as he watches the sauce pouring down his friend's chin. He just knows that if this ends badly, he'll probably be the one who has to pick up the pieces and sit with him while he regurgitates it and complains about how he's never going to Nandos again. Combeferre however, shrugs it off. This is becoming a regular occurrence; last week they'd done the cinnamon challenge and the week before it was downing a bottle of ketchup. Courfeyrac has a strong stomach anyway, so he's hoping he'll be spared the task of wiping the puke off the floor if it doesn't work out well.

Jehan however, isn't even paying attention. Tears are streaming down his face at the memory of where he was today; Greggs. Just the thought of the steak bake makes his eyes water, and his creative juices are flowing as he slides a sausage roll out of the paper bag. He writes;

_Ma chère rouleau de saucisse,_  
_comment vous me enchanter ainsi._  
_Enseigne-moi tes secrets afin que moi aussi_  
_peut devenir aussi délicieux que vous êtes._

Pastries are his passion; meat ones, fancy delicate ones, any of them. He loves them so much that he visits Greggs everyday, getting emotional just thinking about his beloved foodstuff. Courfeyrac has his hot sauce, Grantaire has his Dominoes pizza(the cheese reminds him of Enjolras golden locks) and Jehan has his baked products.

Enjolras sits at another table, rubbing his temples at the stupidity of his friends.

"Just five more minutes," he whispers to himself. "Five more minutes and he'll vomit and you'll be able to go and get yourself a zinger tower burger..."

If there is anything Enjolras loves more than anything else in the world, it's surprisingly fried chicken. He eats it by the bucket-load; he's so attached to it that when they threatened to shut the local KFC restaurant down, he'd prepared a speech and protested outside, singing 'we shall not be moved' with an angry picket sign. He loves chicken in general, but the element of it being fried makes his mouth salivate just thinking about it.

"Did I hear something about a KFC?" Bahorel's head shoots up. "Mind jumping into McDonalds and getting me a Big Mac while you're there? And those new chicken things that are like popcorn chicken?"

"No," Enjolras spits out. "It's blasphemy! Plagiarism! Awful! McDonalds copying popcorn chicken, the scoundrels!"

"It's just a restaurant-"

"It's a way of life!" he wanders over to the table where Courfeyrac is still gagging away at his hot sauce.

Pointing his finger angrily in Bahorel's face, he continues his rant until he notices what Grantaire is drawing. Outlined in his sketchbook is a questionable portrait of Enjolras, depicting him in his normal everyday attire with the only difference being the fact that visibly in the back of the drawing, you can see that the sun is _literally _shining out of his butt.

"What... What is this Grantaire?" Enjolras gasps. "What the-..."

"Guess what?" Grantaire smiles. "I love you."

"No shit, Sherlock!" Jehan laughs. "We all know! I mean that is literally a picture of him with the actual sun shining out of his ass!"

"Guys seriously!" Courfeyrac says as he's downed about half the bottle. "You are stealing my spotlight! Go fornicate or whatever you nasty couples do, okay?"

"B-but McDonalds-" Enjolras tries to return to his debate with Bahorel.

His attempt doesn't last long, as Grantaire grabs him and kisses him on the lips.

"I swear he really does have a shiny butt though," Bossuet laughs whole-heartedly. "Sarcasm, guys. That was sarcasm."

"It's all the fried chicken he eats; he's like a lighthouse warding away all the vegans and vegetarians so he can eat his chicken in peace," Bahorel grins.

"He's the holy god of the ultraviolet butts," Grantaire chuckles, pulling away from his impromptu snogging session with the fried chicken sun butt god.

"I'm getting sunburn just thinking about it," Joly smiles.

"Somebody get me some sunglasses! It burns! It burns!" Courfeyrac says, taking another sip of the sauce as he gets a taste for it.

"Eat with me!" Grantaire suddenly breaks out into song. "To the butt I drew! Eat with me! I have dominoes! Here's to cheese that looks like Enjolras' hair, here's to tomatoes that look like Enjolras' butt, here's to them... and it's all for me!"

"K, the place where love comes from," Enjolras joins him. "F, that's why it tastes so good. C, my favourite thing on earth. Yes, I have a shiny butt!"

It's not just the boys of the barricade that have passions over food; Inspector Javert is well known for loving a good Subway sandwich. He'll usually go for a meatball marinara on herb and cheese bread; that's one good sandwich. 'Have it your way' the advert may say, but Javert always replies to that with 'well apparently not, because I ordered this sub with extra justice'(extra justice=jalapeño peppers).

"Subs, in your multitudes," he also sometimes breaks out into song(you'd think his life was a musical). "Scarce to be counted, filling my stomach..."

Jean Valjean doesn't so much have a passionate love over a particular food; he has a passionate hatred. He won't set foot in a bakery; the bread is still too fresh in his mind, but that's a tale for a different story.


End file.
